From A Child's Plate
by Rothalion
Summary: Rios tries to juggle his life and keep the peace between his wife, daughter and Salem.
1. Chapter 1

_**From A Child's Plate**_

_**Part One**_

_**An Appetizer**_

_Note: Just a little one shot, a couple of chapters about Samantha and Nala and Salem. Rios has his hands full juggling the trio and keeping the peace. I'm guessing that Nala is around six or so in "Dirty Money" in 2005 so I'll put this in '07. Let's just say she's eight and he father's daughter. I'll stick to the events in my Breath of Evil story arc as far as Samantha's demeanor and Salem's past which is still unknown to Tyson at this time._

Warnings: None really, a little language.

Tyson Rios plopped down into his lawn chair and pulled out his phone while he watched Nala jog across the soccer field kicking her ball out ahead of herself. He jabbed a thick index finger on number two, tuned out his grumbling wife and listened to it ring.

"Salem?"

"Yo, Salem where you at, remember you have snack duty, you up? You sounded rough last night."

"What, yea 'course I'm up. It's soccer day, championship day, sure I'm up Tyse, driving, I'm driving only about a half mile away; snacks have been obtained."

"You're late. Are you drunk still? Because if you're drunk still from last night, Salem it'll be a pain in my ass. Put your seat belt on Elliot."

"No, Tyse, no, just a little slow getting up was a shitty night. Be there in ten minutes. Salem out."

"So he's still drunk? If he is I don't want him here Ty. Forgot the snacks too, I'll bet."

"I don't know Samantha and so what if he is; it's not like you've never shown up here for one of Nala's games still drunk and unlike you, Salem's damn sure never walked across the street to a bar during an away game and gotten shit faced while the girls played. Remember that fiasco, Samantha, the DUI the…should I go on? That was great phone call to get in a hotel 3500 miles from home. And yea, he has the snacks that's probably why he's running late. He can never decide what to get then gets way too much. Just chill out and ignore him. He loves coming to see her play; it's not like he has anybody else to hang with."

"Yes Ty, and there's a good reason for that. The man is a menace nobody else wants him. Why you can't see that, won't admit it defies reason. Can't Giddy or Heckler take him every now and then?"

"Take him, take him? We aren't his baby sitters. For Christ's sake Sam, he's grown and no they can't take him they have families."

"Families!" Samantha screeched launching out of her lawn chair, straightening to her full height of six feet tall and glaring down at Rios. "Families and just what the hell is this, me, you, Nala the three of us, is that not a family, Tyson!"

"Sam sit down you're making a scene. I just meant…"

"I know what you meant. Maybe if you'd finally stand before God and marry me you'd take us being family a bit more seriously. Answer me Tyson are we a family or are we not?"

Rios stood, grasped her by the left elbow and forced her gently away from the sideline of the small soccer field a few paces. Stand before God, was she serious; the church would implode. He might marry her one day but not in a church. He might not be the most devout man in the world but he was not going to risk eternal damnation by taking soiled vows in a church.

"Quiet you'll embarrass Nala. Yes we are a family, and yes he's part of it, ours, mine not theirs so get over it."

"I remind you Tyson that you had me long before him. Don't forget it."

"And I'll remind you, he's Nala's godfather, he's been to every single game this season that we were home for, and that you, you have only made it to three aside from having to bring her when we were out of country last month. Four counting today and just because you decided to choose today, the championship day, to drag your ass out of bed for it and skip your spa appointment doesn't mean I'm not going to let him come."

"He can sit alone."

"He sit's where he sits every Saturday, right next to me. This conversation is over, Samantha."

"Ty, Tyson, Tyson Rios!"

Rios ignored her squalling and returned to his chair.

"Everything ok, Tyson?"

The fellow sitting beside him asked. His child, Bree, played on Nala's team and the pair had become friendly over several seasons.

"Yea, Frank, just another day in paradise." Tyson mumbled taking a sip of his soda.

"Not my business man, but you can do better, deserve better, hell maybe she'll just haul ass, and not stay."

"Nah, she's probably just getting something to drink, won't let me off that easily."

"Too bad, Salem's a good guy and Nala loves him. All the girls love him. It's sad that she has to see the tension between the three of you."

"We don't fight in front of her about him."

"You don't have to man; you can't hide that stuff from kids. She knows and I'd bet Sam gives her an earful whenever possible. You know she asked her grandma for money for lighting a candle for a special prayer after mass last Sunday; then asked that God make Samantha love Salem too. My wife and I overheard her. It was sweet. You should come to mass with them Tyson, hell might bring the three of you closer as a family."

"No thanks Frank but thanks for offering again. I don't need mass, I need a muzzle."

Out in the parking lot Salem dropped the tailgate of his red four wheel drive F-250 and pulled the heavy cooler toward it. Despite Rios' scolding he wasn't really late. Nala needed to be at the field thirty minutes early and when him and Rios took her together the trio typically arrived there a bit ahead of that.

The drunk part though, he might fail on that account; despite chugging a huge mug of coffee, and a quart of Gatorade Salem was still paying for his over indulgence the night before. Saturdays were for Nala and Salem made extra effort to keep it that way. He turned down offers to party, turned down dates and typically on Fridays he locked himself down at home or hung out with Rios if Samantha was out with her girlfriends. At home was exactly where he was the night before. He was just sitting home alone, watching television and dutifully cutting up orange and apple slices for game snacks when Rios called to let him know Samantha was going to the game after all and that he'd need to drive himself. The news irked him. It was the end of season championship game and now Samantha would expect him to sit alone and not share the day with Rios and Nala. He'd finished the snacks, paced around his apartment for a while then slammed out of the door and made straight for the bar; stumbling home around closing time. The night would have been peaceful except his temper got the better of him and he'd called Rios. As he lugged the cooler toward field number eight he recalled their brief conversation and prepared himself for the big man's reprimand.

"_What? Whatever it is I'm on my way. Where are you Elliot?" _

"_Salem?"_

"_I know it's you Salem. It's also three a.m. What?"_

"_Just wanted to say fuck you and fuck Samantha too and if you want I'll just drop the snacks, the fruit part too, off in the clubhouse early with Raul, I won't ruin the day for you'll."_

"_You'll? You're drunk, Salem. You only you'll when your drunk."_

"_So. Maybe I am but I'm damn sure not as fucking depressed now."_

"_Elliot," Tyson squeezed the bridge of his nose. "Try and get some sleep, Ellie; I'll see you in the morning. Game's at eleven, Nala…"_

"_I know, I know, half an hour early. You sure, Tyse?"_

"_Wouldn't have it any other way buddy, love you man; now get some rest and try to sober up."_

"_Ok but like I said fuck the both of you."_

"Damn you Salem why do you always have to have the last word?" he muttered to himself.

As he neared the field he noticed Rios and Samantha arguing. Rios had her by the elbow and was leading her away from the other parents. She was livid as usual and Salem knew all too well why. For a moment he paused and again considered dropping the cooler with Raul in the concession stand and having the man deliver it; but then he saw Nala look up from her stretching and seeing him, she waved. So committed he trudged forward passing a glowering Samantha along his way hating that she was taller than he was.

"Here's the snacks, Boss." He said softly as he came up behind Tyson.

He called the big man Boss sometimes out of deference to his authority. They were for the most part equals but Elliot understood that Tyson would always be the leader and _Boss_ was his way of showing that he respected that.

"Boss today, Ellie? Kissing up?"

"Yea, s'pose so. You want to carry them over or should I?"

"Stop sounding so contrite, Elliot it doesn't become you. Let's both take it. The cooler has two handles. Put your chair here first."

He slid Samantha's over then pointed to the spot.

"Samantha's spot?"

"Your spot."

Salem shrugged and opened his bright pink folding chair up. Nala's team colors were pink and silver gray, with purple pinstripes and Salem had purchased the brightly colored chair with its matching equally vivid umbrella to show his support. The girls loved it and Salem both. Between his pink chair, pink team jersey with Nala's number on it, pink hat that the girls recorded their goals on with a permanent marker after each game and matching high top Converse All-stars the man was hard to miss sitting on the sideline.

The chair in place the two friends headed across the field with the cooler.

"Damn Salem how much did you buy? The cooler weighs fifty pounds or more."

"The usual; drinks and water for now, the orange and apple slices, four flavors of Fruit Roll Ups and sugar free ones for Bree, plus treat drinks for after. Let's see, oh they had some cool looking, slushy, fruity tubey things, Boss; I ate one while I was browsing, berry-berry lime flavor and it tasted great so I got three flavors of those. Oh and two kinds of the little kid sized Gatorades, and Capri Suns they taste good too. Should be plenty."

"Yea, Salem for a small incursion into the Congo. Good thing you don't do our supplies. We'd need porters. Uh oh they've seen you, look out."

The men sat the cooler on the end of the bench and greeted the swarm of squealing pink clad, seven and eight year old girls.

"Uncle Elliot, Uncle Elliot you came!" Nala shouted, launching into his outstretched arms.

"Of course I'm here. I wouldn't miss the championship game for anything in the world, Nala. So are you stretched, loose as a goose and ready to trounce those measly pea green Giants?" He asked setting her down and tightening her dark brown pony tail with a deft tug just above the hair band.

"Yup, it's gonna be Elliot's Pink Elephants all the way!"

"Good, that's what I want to hear, And a Half; now go out there and get 'em."

Nala pulled him down stood on her toes and whispered in his ear.

"Please don't let mommy ruin your day. I'm happy you came and I love you."

"No worries, sweetie you just keep those girls in line and play a good game. See ya at half time."

"Will you start our cheer now?"

Salem started the cheer, led the girls through it twice and once it was over completed their pre-game ritual.

"Ok, my little Pink Elephants who's gonna get to write goals on my good luck hat today?"

He took the cap off and swirled it around above his head while the kids leapt for it squealing and shouting out a chorus of _me's and I am's._

"I hope so! Now get 'em out there and make 'em play a great game, And a Half."

"Roger that, Corporal Salem, And a Half out. Bye dad wish me luck."

"Bye, baby good luck and be careful."

Back across the field Samantha sat stone faced in her relocated chair. Salem greeted her politely, as he always did and plopped down into his pink one. The girls came onto the field and gathered in a group. Then on cue they started into their team cheer, once again ending in a shrill go Pink Elephants! Samantha hated the name.

"I still do not understand the name. Pink Elephants? Elliot's Pink Elephants. Why did she put that up for the vote, Ty? Why not Tyson's Tigers or Samantha's Scorpions, Elliot's Elephants. She's not even his kid."

Rios groaned, it always began like this and it never ended well. Samantha starts picking, then Elliot gets the jitters and the Rios steps in and the ensuing meltdown is nothing short of catastrophic.

"I do have to say though it is fitting. If you stopped drinking for more than five minutes Elliot you'd probably see pink elephants."

"No Samantha, I only see them when I drop acid. I figure Nala will be old enough to trip…what say next year. That's about the age you started right."

"Fuck off, Salem."

"Be my pleasure, when are you available, I hear there can be quite a wait."

"Ty are you going to let him get away with that?"

"They're kicking off be quiet." Rios snapped but Samantha pulled about her phone, dialed her girlfriend and continued to rail on about Salem.

Rios tuned her out again and looked over at Elliot. Despite looking haggard he was pleased to note that Salem seemed happy enough. But more importantly instead of listening to Sam gripe he'd jammed a straw into one of the Capri Suns, sipped at it and focused on the game, shouting instructions to whichever Pink Elephant was nearest. Rios laughed to himself. When Nala had begun soccer four years ago Elliot didn't know which end of a soccer ball to kick. The young man was completely clueless, yet now he could cite chapter and verse of the rule book according to age group. When the Elephants trundled down toward the goal for the first time, in clear possession of the ball, Salem jumped to his feet and started shouting support. Nala dribbled the ball in and passed it to Bree who shot it into the net. Salem leapt for joy and as she ran back to center Nala stuck out her hand and high fived him along the sideline. The teenaged volunteer referee, familiar with Salem's often unbounded enthusiasm, called him out.

"Hey you, pink dude, I've got your number and I'm watching you, sit down."

"Yea, yea sure you are; just keep your eyes on the game you over ripe banana. See that, Tyse, did you see And a Half she's the best! Did you see her center the ball and Bree was right there, I bet she set that up. The kid takes after you, Boss a real tactical genius. Damn they're good and mean too I love that. I'm guessing four to one, Pink Elephants. I put a hundred bucks on them, at that spread with the guys in Hannigans last night."

"At least Elliot, now listen to the man and sit down. A hundred bucks are you crazy?"

"I can't sit, how can you sit? How can he make me sit? This is exciting; it's everything. Just sitting sucks. Hear that yellow dude, sitting sucks!"

"Don't say sucks in front of the kids, Ellie."

"Oh geeze Tyse, they're eight; they probably curse better than you do, bro. Kids these days are not all polite like what you were, way back when you were a kid; lighten up."

The game continued and then just before the half ended Rihanna, a big girl for her age, and fast, stole the ball and drove toward the goal. One of the Green Giants tripped her just outside of the net to break up the play. She flew up, came down hard on her left shoulder and stayed down. Salem was up and screaming at the referee and Tyson jumped up to stop him. But before he could, he heard Samantha scream Nala's name and turning back to the field watched his daughter, also a big girl for her age, charge and tackle the offending Green Giant then start pummeling her. Both men ran onto the field, dragged the furious girl away from the downed Green Giant and carried her thrashing and screaming, much to Rios' dismay very adult like expletives, to the bench.

Once the referee achieved order, and Rihanna was cared for the referee reprimanded the girls for their behavior. The Green Giant received a red card, and Nala a verbal warning. Salem and the Green Giant's father nearly came to blows after the man argued the punishment but Rios calmed Salem down and the game continued without incident after Bree successfully took the penalty kick. The Pink Elephants won five to four.

The team and parents celebrated at the bench digging into Salem's snacks and singing the team song. Rios watched Salem with the kids and as he always did, marveled at the man's ability to hold their attention considering he'd never been around kids and his own childhood had been less than nurturing. The girls pushed and shoved to be near him and jumped at the chance to write their names on his pink hat and chalk up their goals. The other parents, used to Elliot's odd hold on the team, stood aside and let the girls maul him, using the time to make plans for a celebratory pizza party on the following Saturday. The group finally had to clear the way for the next team and the party broke up.

At the parking lot Salem headed straight for his truck with his chair and the empty cooler, stowed them and slid behind the wheel. He was tired. He always shouted and applauded the girls' play and on several occasions over the years the referees had scolded him for being overzealous. The games wore him out although he truly didn't understand why. He sighed pulled out of the parking lot; five miles later he took out his phone.

"Call Tubby."

While he waited for Rios to answer he prepared himself to hear the words he was dreading. 'No, the cook out's off Elliot. Sam's pitching a fit; see you Monday at work.'

"You took off in a hurry, Ellie, what's up?"

"Nothing, look am I still on for today and tonight, still coming over to cook out? I'll under- stand if it's a no go Tyse, Samantha's over me for today and And a Half's all stoked about winning I don't wanna start anything and ruin it."

Tyse could hear the hurt in Salem's voice and it broke his heart; the whole situation was a mess and he didn't know how to fix it. Rios looked across his truck at Samantha who was on her phone with her mother retelling the fight story and blaming Nala's aggression on Salem. The woman would be shocked to discover that while Salem might have a shorter fuse temper wise, Rios had by far the greater mean streak. In the mirror he saw Nala scowling. She could hear her mother's disparaging words and hated her for them. Nala started yelling and he snapped back to reality.

"Stop it mom! It's not Uncle Elliot's fault. It's my fault and I'd get her again for hurting one of my team mates; that's what team mates do! So stop saying mean stuff! I hate you. I hate that you hate him, I…"

"Nala, enough now, hush, Uncle Elliot's on the phone, just relax baby, just relax."

"But daddy…"

"Shhh, no Salem everything's ok and yea man you're grilling the ribs remember. You started them soaking day before yesterday. It's the same plan as we talked about; grill, you stay over then the beach tomorrow. Just come on out. I'm on my way now. Salem come on, you sound like hell and you don't need to sit around moping all alone. Just get your ass to the meat store, pick up the steaks and stuff and then come over, Nala expects you there."

"Tell him I have a surprise for him at dinner, daddy."

"She says she has a dinner surprise for you."

Salem put on his blinker, slipped the big truck into the left lane and passed a slower moving vehicle.

"Ok, ok roger that, Boss, I'll be there in about an hour. Just start the fire though, ok Tyse; that would be a big help."

"Consider it done, Kermit. Put your seat belt on and drive safe."


	2. The deeper End of Friendship

**_The Deeper End of Friendship_**

Elliot pulled his truck into the small parking lot of the Cuban owned meat store in a faltering part of down town Miami and took a deep breath. Unfortunately, lately, no matter how often he went in the greeting he received made him cringe. He'd been shopping in the little place for several years; initially going in after hearing that they sold custom, handmade Cajun Boudin Noir, a sausage staple he'd grown up eating in Louisiana and still loved dearly despite his tepid appetite. Boudin one of very few good memories he had of his childhood. Committed he pushed through the door and before the joyful bells could stopped clanging he was greeted boisterously by the owner's twenty two year old son as the man forced his way through waiting patrons.

"Hola, Papi! Que pasa? What's up? Pop it's Elliot; make Espresso! Papi been a while again, too long, come in, come in, Papi! Don't mind these people, come here, step on up."

"Hey, Calixto; nothing much. Need some steaks, my Boudin; you know the normal, shit. Grilling out at Rios'." He answered shyly after pulling free from Calixto's crushing embrace. "Everything cool here? No problems?"

"Nada, no." Then in a whisper. "Not since you, Papi. Look they line up round the aisle. We owe you, Papi. You just name it. And you? You're a bad liar. Nothing's up? You look like you lost your best friend again. The fat one's bitch chewing at your skinny ass again. Look at this." He tugged at the waist of Salem's Levis. "Pop's gonna have your head, Papi. You lost weight again. What ten pounds easy! He's gonna want to feed you my friend."

"Nah, I'll eat out at Rios' promise. And Calixto, Tyse he's not fat. Not an ounce a fat on him man, trust me. I train with him, no fat."

"My Cuban ass! He's fat, she's a bitch and you're too thin again. Missed you at the gym, been what, a month? Where do you hide, Papi? "

"Around."

"Right Papi, around, good answer and always the same you wily bastard. Diaz that slouch outta Philly; man Fortner bashed his face in good. Little Mexican fuck won't be bragging for a while. Broke the fool's jaw in three places."

Salem took in the news and followed Calixto to the meat counter cutting ahead of the twenty people waiting in line. It might not be much but V.I.P. status in his butcher shop of choice always filled Salem with a jolt of pride. Conversely it irked him that Calixto knew about Samantha's hate for him and that folks tended to think Rios was fat.

One of the only activities Salem did without Rios was to train Combat Sambo, which is where he first met Calixto. His Sambo Dojo was located in the same dank down town warehouse turned gym that the younger man boxed and trained mixed martial arts in. Salem's Sensei often paired him with Calixto for sparing and extra tutoring. They got along well but because Salem held people at arm's length the classes framed the extent of their friendship and Elliot had no idea that the he was the son of his favorite butcher. As he studied the fresh meats in the case he recalled how he'd become so entwined in the world of Gimo's.

For two decades the little Bodega and café, affectionately called Gimo's, was a popular gathering place for the citizens of that block. The shop also drew out of area customers who made the trip into the neighborhood to take advantage of the shop's high quality cuts of meats, produce, excellent Espresso and authentic Cuban deli dishes. Then a local gang strong armed, Calixto's father, Gimoaldo, asking for protection money and selling drugs on his stoop. The gang's presence was scaring the once loyal customers away. Business was dying off and feeling he had no recourse, after the local authorities failed to interceded, Calixto's father, not wanting to involve his son, who'd opted to leave the turbulent neighborhood to work to live downtown, confronted the gang alone and lost. The brutal assault landed the critically wounded man in the hospital for months.

Then three months ago after returning from a long and protracted mission and weeks after the incident, Salem with Rios in tow ventured in to pick up some steaks and were astounded to find Calixto working the counter. A sign for a vigil for his father hung limply on the window behind the register. Calixto explained the situation to a stunned and furious Elliot. Over the years Gimoaldo had been uncommonly kind to Elliot, always seeming to see through his façade, something that had endeared the elder Cuban to him. He worried and fussed over Elliot's weight and health. If Salem ordered a pound of Boudin he'd find two in his package, along with a new blend to taste test, bags of fancy coffee and extra steaks. The old man would stick delicately cooked vegetables in too; tucked and hidden in the sack with a gentle scolding note to eat them, something despite feeling guilty Elliot rarely did.

At first they'd not openly discussed Elliot's profession but it was common knowledge that in his younger days Gimoaldo had been a fierce guerilla fighter of renowned back in Cuba. Salem just figured it took a soldier to know one and accepted Gimoaldo's friendship unconditionally, secretly wishing on yet another level that he could allow himself to just trust enough to open up and talk to the kind yet strong old soldier. Then one night about a year and a half ago Elliot staggered up to the shop's front door, drunk, distraught and painfully beaten from a bar fight. He'd gone to Rios but the big man had turned him away after Samantha complained and lost he'd fled back into the night. Angry and desperate Salem had pounded on Gimo's front door screaming for Gimoaldo not even sure why he'd gone there or how he'd even arrived. Gimoaldo took him in and listened silently to the young man's story while gently and reverently treating his wounds. Ever since that night Gimoaldo was the only one Elliot ever spoke with about work. Gimoaldo was his ears, his secret source for unconditional compassion, his confessor.

Now Gimoaldo, Papi to Elliot, lay paralyzed in the hospital and rather than give in and close the decade's old shop Calixto left his city job in trading and took over vowing to continue his father's battle. He still bore the bruises of a recent beating.

The following evening at the gym Salem confronted Calixto and got the whole story from him. Then he promised the trouble was over. Calixto had laughed and thanked Salem; saying that if the police could do little what could one man do? And that he'd die before giving up the shop. Elliot smiled and shook his head correcting Calixto, 'Not one man mi amigo but two. Leave it to me. It's what I know.' Three months later the gang was still gone, Gimoaldo was home from the hospital and business was once again brisk. Calixto knew enough not to ask for more information. He moved his wife and daughters into the apartment upstairs and gratefully accepted their new life for what it was.

Calixto's voice drew him back to the task at hand.

"Talk to me Papi; what do you need? A big Prime Rib for Gordo? Here look at that one. Not good enough, Jorge can cut another fresh, that's fresh too but you know…"

"No that one's a good size, leave it sit though and get him to cut me…I got Rios, Giddy, Heck, Tyse and Sam's old men, Bree's dad so gimme seven just like that and six of those Fillet Mignons for the ladies and no wait, there's Sam's girlfriends men so make that eleven and two extra…"

"So, fourteen, you skinny boy! You count yourself, Sancho? I hear this one and that one but no me! Fifteen of the Prime Ribs, Calixto! That's fourteen and one for him to take to his home for tomorrow. Feed my favorite son, my Sancho here well. Come here Elliot kiss your Papi's cheek and let him see you."

Salem shrugged to Calixto and crossed to Gimoaldo wheeling his way through the parting crowd. They met and Salem leaned down for his obligatory kiss and tug of his waistline.

"Ah, you're skin and bones again Sancho! Come your table waits for you. Come, Calixto will make your order right. And if he tells me you tried to pay, Sancho, ach, you'll have more than the fat one's wife biting at your skinny ass! I have Espresso and a new Boudin. Little fried slices made from seafood, you'll love it, come taste."

Once in the back room Elliot took his seat after gentle wheeling Gimoaldo into place then sat quietly while the man poured them each a strong Espresso and served a small portion of the newest Boudin.

"How are you, Papi?"

"Good, great now that I am back sleeping in my old room. I missed my poor lost beautiful Clarita, but now again her spirit keeps me company in bed. Funny thing happened. A company, they come and install an elevator, Sancho. Just a small one but it goes up and it goes down. Then another company they come and put in a new bathroom and redo the kitchen fix the doorways wider, renovate for Calixto's family to fit better; good work too. Funny thing though my beloved Sancho, I did not order these things. Calixto he cannot afford these things, so Sancho my Sancho will you tell your Papi the truth?"

"He used money from the benefit maybe, Papi? Didn't want to worry you. I don't know. This is wonderful Boudin though. You have some ready I can take with me? It'll be a great in between food with some little crackers and sour cream and chives maybe."

"Yea, that could maybe work. Ah, so my elevator's just another secret, like your secret rib marinade recipe, Sancho?"

"Yea s'pose so, Papi."

"You still pretend to make it? Still, Gordo is fooled?"

"Of course."

"How do I thank you, Sancho, my heart's favorite son?"

Gimoaldo reached across the small café table, grasped Elliot's hands in his and squeezed them his eyes welling with tears. Elliot basked in Gimoaldo's reverence yet desperately feared it would come between the father and son.

"Just keep listening when I need to talk, Papi. Just be here to listen. Look I gotta scram. Rios'll think I'm bailing on the BBQ."

"Ok, Ok. I'm here. My ears are getting full of hair, Sancho, but they still listen good. Calixto will have your order by now and here, here's the new Boudin and some nice fresh Broccoli, Spinach and Asparagus. Toss the crackers and cream in on your way out. You need these greens, Sancho promise your Papi, promise and go with God always."

Elliot took the basket, studied the green vegetables and sighed.

"I promise, Papi. Love you always."

He kissed the man's leathery cheek, daubed away the final tears with battered right thumb and slipped away.

Thirty minutes later Salem pulled onto Rios' street and parked his truck behind Giddy's Suburban. He smiled, despite his gloomy mood, at the big silver vehicle. Giddy hated the truck but his wife had insisted upon buying it. They had two boys and no need for third row seating but some of the other wives at the boys' private school drove them so she had to have one too. The most she ever toted in the big vehicle was a week's worth of groceries and a mountain of cash for gas. It was situations like the Suburban that made Salem thankful he had no wife or kids to appease. That alone just might be worth the price of feeling lonely now and again.

As he gathered his packages he took note of the other cars lining the dirt road in the rural deed restricted subdivision. Samantha's Forest green Range Rover, and behind it Heckler's little red Honda Prius, which the man despised, but drove to keep his eco-friendly wife who also drove one happy. Last Christmas Salem had stolen both cars and had them wrapped at a local sign shop. Heck's in a camouflage wrap to man it up a bit and Zoe's in a zebra pattern but with fluorescent pink and green stripes. The couple had quite the shock on Christmas morning and he wasn't sure Heck's wife had entirely forgiven him yet.

Rios' parents' silver rental Honda came next. They were visiting from New York and had flown in early that morning. Sam's parents' fully loaded black Volvo wagon, purchased of course by Rios, was there and Bree's father's 1989 F-150 that he'd wrangled away from Salem two years ago. Salem missed the old blue truck and regretted losing it Frank in a Craps game. The rest of the company consisted of Samantha's girlfriends all of whom despite varying states of wedlock or relationships insisted upon trying to get Salem into bed. The sick part was, that having failed, they all told one another elaborate lies about their supposed escapades with him. He figured he should feel flattered but in reality him, Rios, and the guys all felt the situation was tad sick.

Packages in hand he trundled up to the big stained glass double doors of the sprawling ranch style home and jammed at the doorbell. Moments later it pulled inward and Rios' mother greeted him with a broad smile and a kiss on the cheek.

"Elliot, finally! Nala and Tyson are both beside themselves worrying you wouldn't show up. Here let me take something the basket, here hand it over. Oh, you look tired honey, I'm so glad you came. Come on follow me, Rios is out at the grills with the guys and Samantha's well…" She stopped short causing Salem to bump into her and wagged a finger at him. "She's out back with those harpy girlfriends of hers. Ugh that woman! And the kids are swimming."

Salem followed along dutifully listening to the woman chatter on about their flight and subsequent nightmare getting the rental car which was why they'd missed Nala's game, until finally they made it to the kitchen and deposited the groceries.

"Now honey go get a beer and get out to Tyson; I'll put this stuff up."

"Ok but did Tyse and Giddy make the rub for the steaks? And here, this is a new Boudin. A Shrimp Boudin. Little thin slices for an appetizer the crackers go with it and the Sour Cream. That can get set out if you want."

"Oh, it looks and smells wonderful. I received the package you sent us last month, the Noir, and oh my word my Bridge group absolutely loved it. You are such a doll."

"Ugh, don't tell Tyse I'm a doll, Ms. Mimi. The guys'll never let me live that down."

"Oh stop it, they love you. Now go, go you have time before the smoker's ready for the ribs and just try and enjoy the day."

"Oh and there's some green stuff in the basket too. Asparagus and Broccoli or something. Bury it in the fridge. I don't do green stuff."

"Well you need to. Ah yes very nice green stuff at that. I'll just cook it up you can give it a try. Now skedaddle."

Salem took a beer and an extra for Tyson and headed out through the triple sliding glass doors leading from the big country kitchen out to the pool area. Ten kids splashed and hollered in the large free form pool playing water basketball; while Samantha and her friends lounged in the shallow end and just as Mimi had said Rios and the guys were standing round the grills. He made his way over trying to ignore Samantha's blatant look of disappointment and contempt.

"Hey Boss."

"'Bout damn time Kermit; fuck Nala's driving me nuts. That beer better be for me."

"Yup. What, Heck, what?" He squawked his voice a bit nasally as sometimes happened when he was angry.

"When they said pink I didn't think they meant 'pink'. Dude that outfit's gay man. Holy fuck, Fifty I know guys who'd swear all those rumors about you and Rios were true if they saw you in that get up."

His comment garnered snickering from Samantha's girlfriend's dates or husbands. Elliot bristled at the outsiders then confronted Heckler.

"Fuck you Heck, the kids love it; brings them luck and hey, hell maybe the rumors are true."

"Salem." Rios growled in warning.

"Nah, after so many years one of us would of caught you by now. Besides Giddy here always figured it was really Tyannikov you really had a hard on for."

"Honey!" Zoe snapped punching her husband of eight years in the arm.

"Ow babe. Just sayin'. Am I wrong, Giddy?"

Before Giddy could reply Salem turned the pink hat around backwards and stared at Heckler his hazel eyes glinting with rage. Heckler read the warning and grinned.

"Yea, that's the ticket, Fifty. Pink hat on backwards, way more manly, now I'm fucking shaking in my bare feet. What'd that Mozart guy say? I think the lady bitches too much."

"Shakespeare you ignorant fuck and how about I shove this hat up your…"

"You get the steaks, Elliot? Gimo do you right again?" Bree's father Frank cut in trying to diffuse the situation.

Frank owned a Concrete contracting business and although he hung out with the group frequently but he'd never really been able to quite tell when the situation was going to explode into an all-out fight. His crew consisted of tough blue collar brawlers but as far as he was concerned Rios' guys were a whole different animal. There was always far too much Testosterone floating round when the team hung out together. These were big guys who liked big guns and crazy life threatening adventures. They probably did not need to antagonize one another. Yet it always seemed that was the case when the group partied together. A continuous volley of poking and taunting of one another that the men did not seem able to control and while the spats normally ended in friendly rivalry Frank had witnessed fights between them. Usually brutal confrontations leaving someone hurt, which scared him. To compound his concern he knew first hand that Salem's temper was edgy even at the best of times. More worrisome was that the younger man's mood was already antsy from having to deal with Samantha's harassment at the soccer game.

"Yea there inside, Frankie. Tyse's mom is doing the rub." Salem answered without looking away from Heckler's teasing eyes. "Ribs gotta go on first though."

"I'll get them. Fire should be ready."

"Yea, you do that."

As Frank turned away from the group Nala charged up and wrapped her arms around Elliot's waist from behind drawing his attention from Heckler. He startled a bit and turned to face her.

"Uncle Elliot, Uncle Elliot you came!"

"Course, I did And –A-Half! Ugh you're all wet, girly."

"Course I am." She mimicked jumping up and down joyfully tugging on his free hand. "I'm swimming! Get your suit on, come on, come on."

"No, take your old man in he needs a good bath, I'm cooking."

"No, no, no! He's no fun! Uncle E, please."

"Your suit's in the bathroom in my office, Ellie. Pony up boy your fans await you." Rios prompted, thankful for Nala's timing.

"Ok, ok I'll be right back. But your old man here, he better take damn good care a my ribs."

"Yippee! Just hurry up ok. I need you for my team."

NOTE: I'm going to end this chapter here I think. There's quite a bit of stuff that still needs to happen at the BBQ. The problem is I am really struggling with this and I don't want to cut stuff out because I lost patience, shooting for completion. I Hope you all enjoy it despite there not being a mission but that will happen later. I will try to update it promptly.


	3. Chapter 3

**_FROM A CHILD'S PLATE _**

_Grilled and Smoked With A Splash of Attitude   
_

Salem shot Heckler a final glare and padded across the pool area and back through the house. He ignored the look Sam's mother Grace shot at him from the kitchen where she was helping Rios' mother, Ms. Mimi cook and went straight for the heavy cherry double doors leading into Rios' newly built office off the family room on rear of the house.

"Hey, off limits, Salem!" Sam's father Art shouted from the nearby family area where he was watching a college football game alone.

"What?"

Salem spat back and watched as the arrogant Izod clad, Miami Dade police detective crossed to him then chuckled derisively when he tried to bar the door.

"My Samantha said Tyson says no one's allowed in there; it's_ his_ area. Samantha's not even allowed in so what do you think you're doing, son?"

"Drop the son pops, I'd sooner have a fuckin' test tube for a parent."

"Watch it Salem, I'm not going to coddle your cocky little ass like Tyson does and I'm in no mood for your lip. Have you heard the stuff Nala spouts out lately? You need to learn to have some respect. Tyson said no one goes in there and I intend to see his orders met."

"Yea, you and whose army _detective_? I'm a little too old for he respect lesson, pops. 'Sides even if I could learn it you damn sure aren't man enough to teach it to me; so respect this, Mr. Detective." He snapped reaching into his pocket and dragging out his keys. He held them up in front of Art's bulging Martini glazed eyes and in a sing song voice recited.

"This little key goes to my hovel and this little key to my truck. And this little key's for Rios' and this little key here, his front door. Now this little key it's going all the way home to… guess where, detective, Art? Well look at that; Tyson's new office. And I'll huff and I'll puff and poofity click… looks like I'm the only fucker on the approved visitor list. So respect that motherfucker. I've got a pool party to attend and my bathing suit's in _my closet_ in Tyson's _private _office."

Salem pushed through the door, slammed it shut behind himself in Art's flushed face, locked it and leaned back defensively against the barrier just in case.

"Salem! Salem open this door immediately! Salem! I'm warning you. Salem! They fucked up giving you a chance boy!"

"Holy Christ and fuck me twice Rios, the shit I put up with to be your friend. Sometimes I think rotting away in the Louisiana's state pen mighta been the better deal."

Art's pounding finally ceased and Elliot, satisfied that he'd retreated, made his way across the well-appointed space and into the large bathroom. Just as Tyson had said his tattered red board shorts were hanging from a hook in the shower stall. He changed and headed out but stopped short. Turning he eyed the pile of pink clothes littering the neat bathroom and picked them up. Tyson would have a fit over the sloppy pile. He carefully folded them and stowed the items in the closet Rios had built into the office for him. It held spare clothes and workout attire as well as a second gun safe for Salem's weapons for when Elliot stayed over before they deployed; which was their typical routine. The office had a huge plush leather couch that Salem had chosen for its comfort when sleeping, even though Rios had built him a small sleeping alcove. Rios called the huge piece of furniture a laziness magnet, swearing that if he passed to near it he ended up napping or watching television. All told the office was as large as a small studio apartment and had most of the same amnesties including a well-stocked wet bar.

Clothes put away Salem took a deep breath and headed back out of the door, across the house and to the pool. Once on the patio he paused and took note of the position of the laughing kids, Samantha and her bevy of girlfriends.

"Perfect." He purred sardonically to himself. "Couldn't have set it up better if I'd planned it." Then at the top of his lungs, "Frag out!"

Samantha and gang had no time to move as the grinning man dashed forward and launched into the air just feet away from them. He hit the water from about six feet high in a fully tucked cannon ball. The ensuing splash and wave drenched them and most dumped their frilly colorful drinks trying to dodge the attack. Their shrill screams drowned out the raucous laughter of the men and the kids but Salem couldn't hear it. Instead of popping straight back up he swam under water and surfaced beneath the floating basketball hoop his head poking through the barely wide enough hole. He slung his near chin length bangs out of his face spraying water at the kids and taunted the giggling group.

"Betch'a can't hit me, come on show me whatch'a got you useless little heathens!"

The kids immediately set about trying to hit him with the ball and the new game was on. They'd throw at him and he'd dunk down and reappear so they could try again. Finally an hour later and bored with being their target he slipped under and surfaced stealthily beneath Nala. He lifted her high over his head and flew her toward the net. Then he flipped the squealing girl upside down and tried to slam dunk her head first into the net. The new game was met with a chorus of 'me nexts' and Elliot obliged, trying to slam dunk all of the willing kids into the hoop. For the moment he forgot all about Samantha and her parents, he forgot all about Heckler's taunting, he forgot pretty much all negativity in his life and allowed himself to relish in the simplistic joy of play, something his own less than happy childhood had not allowed him to indulge in.

Over at the grilling area Samantha's friends complained to their husbands and dates about the watery attack. Fortunately all the men had sense enough to simply smooth the situation over and not confront Salem. Rios quickly tuned out Sam, turned away and began wire brushing the warming grill grates for the steaks and burgers. Brett, Hillary's husband slunk away from his griping wife as well and joined him. He was ex Air Force, currently working in IT and of all Sam's friends' men the only one who at least tried to cross over into the very cliquish group.

"Need a hand? I'm a fair cook on a grill. My old man was our neighborhood grill master when I was a kid."

Rios considered the offer. If nothing else he was a veteran, and Hillary, his wife, was as loose as Samantha when it came to sleeping around. Tyson actually felt a slight affinity to the cuckolded man. He'd also come in and set up all the electronics in Tyson's new office. Maybe Elliot planned on dodging bullets for the rest of his life but Tyson's main reason for the new office was to fill it as much electronic hardware as possible so that he could educate himself enough to run the inside end of mission operations.

"Yea sure, here clean that one off. We'll need both."

Brett took the proffered brush slid slightly to Rios' right and began to scrub at the charred iron grates.

"This grill is sweet man. My old man would die for a set up like this."

"Yea, well hey next time he's in town let me know. You guys can come over swim and we'll grill."

"Will Salem be here?"

Rios' hackles twitched a bit but then he considered that Hillary waged a constant battle to get Elliot into bed and of course the common rumor was that she had. He sighed and decided to let the man off the hook.

"Look I like you man, of all of you guys on the outside you're the only one I'd really let in. So I'm gonna level with you. Salem, he hasn't fucked Hillary."

"No it's not that it's…"

"Yea it is, Brett and trust me Sam's about as faithful as; well I can't think of anything not faithful enough; so I know what you have to deal with. No Brett, Salem's never touched any of those bitches no offense to your wife. Wouldn't touch them with a ten foot pole, so yea he will probably be here. Think about it Brett in case you haven't noticed he is sort of attached to my hip."

"Oh, ok yea then that would be good. Sorry about Samantha man, shit."

"Mother of my child so I cope."

"Yea, I feel you. Hey, how's the office? Everything still online and running smooth?"

"Yea, hell yea and thanks couldn't have done it without you."

"Hey, Rios you better look at this!" Giddy shouted as Tyson and Brett set their brushes aside.

The two men turned back to the pool just in time to see Elliot lead the entire group of kids in a ten yard charge once again toward where the women had resettled comfortably in the water with new drinks.

"Salem!"

The plea went unheard and eleven bodies slammed into the water three feet from the women and this time the wave and splash completely doused them leaving their primped and teased hair drooping and their makeup in ruins. Once they surfaced the small squad of swimmers cheered forward by Salem began a brutal barrage of splashing that finally drove the sputtering ladies out of the pool and into the safety of the patio bathroom. He hefted Nala onto his shoulders and the kids began cheering with him.

"Our pool, our pool, our pool, big people go home!"

"I'm gonna kill him."

"On average, if you don't mind me asking, how many times do you threaten him with that a week?"

Rios busted up laughing and slapped Brett on the left shoulder.

"Who're kidding? A week! Try a day. Salem, Nala that's enough. Salem!"

"What Tyse?" he shouted up at Rios his arms spread wide grinning from ear to ear. "Just playing, Tubby, playing, it's good for you."

"I'll give you, good for you, Elliot! We have to live with them and I don't mean the kids."

"Not my fault."

He waded toward where Tyson stood at the edge of the pool and reached back his left arm.

"You do it and your skinny bitch ass is mine, Elliot. Kids out! Get dry and get ready for dinner!"

The order was met with a chorus of squealing complaints.

"Ok, ok Tyse; man… all a you… hey you munchkins out. Let's go, let's go, poopy pants Tyson's spoiling our fun. Night time Marco Polo later."

Elliot turned from Tyson and began herding the children up the steps and out of the pool. They were met by their moms, none of whom were part of Samantha's guest list and hustled away to dry off and settle down for supper.

Elliot trailed out after them and headed straight for Tyson and the guys. When he got just behind Rios he shook his head like a dog and doused the bigger man as he spread out the hamburgers across the grill.

"Salem!"

"What, it's a pool party, getting wet is a mandatory thing."

Then he trailed his fingers in his mop of hair, took Tyson's beer and stepped toward the smoker where his ribs were cooking.

"Hey gimme that!"

"Old, fat and slow big guy; old, fat and slow."

An hour later dinner was served. The kids sat round their table and the adults at another larger one. Just into the meal Nala stepped up and approached Elliot with a covered platter. She looked to Tyson's mom who nodded then pushed onto the bench seat between Heckler's wife Zoe and him.

"Gotcha a dinner surprise, Uncle E. ready? Made it myself."

Elliot set his fork aside and looked at her then across to Ms. Mimi.

"I suppose?"

"Great! Tada!"

She set the platter down and snatched off the lid with a flourish.

Salem leaned back and groaned.

"It's green, And a Half."

"Yup, Grama Mimi says green is good. And this is _fresh_ green too, the best."

"I don't eat green, fresh or otherwise, kiddo."

"You'd deny your adorable niece. Taste it. Come on, I made the dressing, oil and Balsamic vinegar with a little garlic, myself. Well me and Grama Mimi, I tossed it too with the big forks."

"What's the matter tough guy, afraid of a little salad?" Art sneered.

Salem glared down the table at the insipid man and sighed.

"Tyse?"

"It's a salad Elliot taste it. It's not like she's asking you to bum rush an MMG. "'Sides the kid's right, green's good for a growing boy."

"Growing? That's good, Tyse, cute. Growing, ha ha. Shut up, Heck."

"Giddy?"

"Hell man, she is adorable."

"God turncoats one and all. Fine, what is it."

"Great! Baby spinach, with Soy Bean Sprouts, and that's Arugula…"

"Aruga who?"

"Like lettuce. Those are baby carrot strings and here's some nice shitake mushroom, Feta cheese that's from sheep's milk and…"

"Stop!"

Elliot took a deep breath and plunged his fork into the heaping salad stabbing around and gathering up some Spinach, Sprouts, a Shitake and a smidgen of the Arugula and Feta. He shoved the pile into his mouth and chewed. The group all watched in silent anticipation.

"Remember your manners, Kermit; it's rude to make a face when you don't like something."

"Fu…"

"Don't curse with your mouth full, Fifty! What are you thinking?" Giddy snapped reaching behind Heckler and smacking Salem in the back of his head.

Salem began to chew again and finally managed to choke down the salad sample. He grabbed for his beer to wash it down but Heckler snatched it away.

"Oh no, no, no, tell her what you think first. You ain't tasting wine and cheese, Fifty. Savor that flavor."

"Wow, Heck that's a cool rhyme, Savor that Flavor. That's gonna be me and Grama Mimi's restaurant saying!"

Heckler high fived her and she turned back to Salem.

"Well?"

Salem looked around the table finally locking eyes with Rios. His demeanor said don't hurt her feelings but Elliot knew Nala was tougher than that.

"Tastes like grass."

"Grass! Like you've ever eaten grass, mister. Grass! My salad doesn't taste…Grama Mimi? Grass, Uncle Elliot?"

"God you're an ass, Kermit."

"What Nala? Grass it's green and it tastes grassy. That should be good, no? That green stuff is grassy, what?" He squealed.

"When have you ever eaten grass, Uncle Elliot? How do you even know what grass tastes like?"

"I have eaten grass. I have eaten grass and bugs and snails and bark and these even." He protested stabbing at a mushroom, "but they damn near killed my as.. well me."

Nala was looking at him in stunned disbelief. They were face to face only inches apart and she'd wrinkled up her nose and pressed her small hands against his shoulders as if to keep him at bay.

"Well it's true. I was lost for weeks and it was all I had. Ask your old man. I was skin and bones when we first met from only eating green stuff and bugs!"

"Bugs, you ate bugs. You have bug breath and I just smelled it. I kissed you good morning, you've kissed me to sleep with bug lips eeeew!"

She swiped her forearm across her lips and slid back from him as far as she could before pushing Zoe out of place.

"It was a long time ago. I've brushed my teeth thousands a times since then."

"No he hasn't, don't trust him Nala; terrible oral hygiene."

"Fuck you, Heckler. Ow! Damn it Giddy that one hurt. I brush my teeth Nala. Who you gonna believe?"

" I don't know, Uncle Elliot but _they_ like salad. They eat salad, they understand green's good for them and you don't and that's why you're always gonna be just a skinny ass little bitch."

"Nala!" Rios wailed.

"Here Uncle Heck; you eat it. I'm through here."

Once she turned away the table broke up into crazed laughter. Rios threw down his napkin and buried his face in his hands. Finally he looked up and studied the group. All were laughing except Samantha and her folks. He wanted to laugh. He loved, despite the often awkwardness of it, the interaction Nala and Salem had with one another. The little girl understood him on a level that the rest of them did not.

"Lighten up, Tyson." Heckler offered. "It's just how they roll."

Tyson smiled and began to laugh as well. Salem sat silently waiting for the table to just get back to eating and for his shame to pass. Heckler stood up went behind him and hugged him.

"Oh come on now Fifty, smile; it's only a salad and her undying love she's given me. ' Sides we all love your skinny ass. Right guys? Gives us something to lust after during those long lonely missions."

Salem shrugged him off and started to laugh.

"Hey, slayed by a nine year old girl, none a you can claim that; so I'm still the bomb!"

The laughter ramped up again but Art had heard enough.

"You think her behavior is funny, Tyson?"

The tone of his voice, nasty and confrontational silenced the table at once.

"What Art?" he replied snickering despite himself.

"I said…"

"I heard you."

"She was, despite my disdain for that one," he pointed at Salem. "Rude and disrespectful. Disrespectful to all of us with such language. She should be punished and not be allowed to be anywhere near him. I'm certain she learned that behavior from him. I swear Tyson, I will not allow his sick, degenerate and ignorant behavior to destroy my granddaughter! I'll sue for custody and take her out of this madness first. I am well aware of his history. I've pulled down a favor, I unsealed his files."

The table went completely still and even the children, sensing the new tense atmosphere, stopped talking. Giddy stood up and placed his hands on Salem's tensed shoulders. Heckler followed and flanked Rios. Both knew that one man or the other was set to go over the table and take out Art. Rios cleared his throat, leaned forward on his elbows and faced Samantha's father.

"This is my home, she is my daughter, he is my brother and partner. We are bound in blood. This dinner will continue without any further outbursts or threats from you or yours. Now shut your fucking pious trap detective and eat before I come over there and shred you, understood. Do not threaten the only two people I love ever again. And as for you _illegally_ unsealing Elliot's juvenile records, we will discuss that after I talk to my lawyer and your internal affairs officer. Now these are some fine steaks that Elliot brought us and they're getting cold so eat everyone, just let's all eat."

Giddy and Heckler returned to their seats and the group began to eat again. It didn't take long for jovial conversation and beers to erase the black mood and Rios felt relived. Salem had restrained himself and even gotten back into a festive mood and for Rios that was the high point of the night.

Once the plates had been taken away by Mimi and Sam's mother with the help of Giddy and Heckler's wives, Nala came back over. She sat down next to Elliot, reached out and grasped his right hand in hers. She was a smart and empathic child far above her years and she knew that Elliot, despite his smiles and laughter, was hurting. She drew his hand up to her lips and kissed it.

"Sorry, wanna yell at me?"

"No. Never been real good at scolding you, kiddo."

"It's ok if I kissed bug lips. Ok too that you don't eat green stuff. I kinda like you smallish anyway easier to hug all of you. Arms are still short, see?"

Then she knelt on the bench and faced him. She grasped his stubble rough face in her palms and looked him in the eyes.

"But it's not ok to be sad. Ok. No one can take me from you. Kiss now 'cause I gotta go play hide and seek."

He smiled and they pecked lips together. He drew her into a tight hug and set her down on the ground.

"Go on then skedaddle. Be careful and I love you too, And-a-Half."


	4. Chapter Four The Grass Op

**_From A Child's Plate_**

_Chapter Four_

_The Grass Op_

_Intro: Elliot decides to actually tell whatt happened during the fateful mission before he gets sent to Rios' squad in Somalia._

Later, after Marco Polo had finished, Rios and Elliot lit the patio lanterns and the fire pit. Then with kids asleep for the night and Samantha's girlfriend gone the group all settled into chairs or settees around the glowing basket with their wives. Only Salem sat alone until Nala re-appeared from in the house where she should have been sleeping with the rest of the kids. She crawled up into Salem's lounge chair and rested lazily back against his chest. They both wore one of Rios' SSC sweat shirts. Elliot's swallowed him but Nala actually had to roll hers up at the waist to keep it from dragging on the ground. Tyson and Samantha both knew it would be futile to order her off to bed so they let her alone. Once she dozed off Elliot could carry her in. All Rios cared about was that everyone seemed happy and that the conversation had remained light. Of course life being what it was that would change.

"The steaks were great again, Elliot."

"Thanks Frankie."

"When are you gonna give in and tell us where you get them man, sharing's a good thing you know."

"Never. You want 'em, tell me and I'll go get 'em."

"Sure beats the hell outta eating grass and worms. Did you really eat that stuff, Elliot? Come on man sounds a little like too Rambo-ie and not real life."

Rios groaned. Salem's mood was happy despite the morning soccer game and Art's revelation about unsealing his juvenile records. He didn't need the man reflecting back to Sarajevo and getting depressed.

"Let it go, Brett."

"No tell us Uncle Elliot, really it's true?"

"Nala."

"But Daddy, Uncle Elliot never tells good fighting stories like you guys do. I wanna hear about the bugs."

"Isn't it time for munchkins to be in bed, kiddo?"

"No Uncle Elliot no; I wanna hear about the grass op."

"The grass op?" Giddy broke in chuckling. She might just be spending a tad too much time hanging around with them. "Look Nala it is true. When we first met your Uncle there he wasn't much bigger than, well, Zoe. Yea…sound about that right, Heck?"

"I'd say so. Probably one-twenty-five soaking wet and beat to shit."

"Your Uncle Elliot well, he'd been through hell."

"Yup, then your mean and cranky old man over there put me through another two months' worth; sorry fat fucker that he was."

Nala looked upside down at Elliot and took his face in her hands.

"That really true?"

"True."

"Daddy you didn't.

"I did."

"The op though, tell us." She whined.

Salem looked around at the group finally locking eyes with Art who was blatantly daring him to share the story in hopes he'd fail at serving up something dreadful enough to garner their sympathies. He completely doubted the legitimacy of Salem's claim and would love to see the young man embarrass himself. Salem looked away, leaned forward slightly dislodging Nala and grabbed the bottle of Bourbon that they'd been passing around. He started to refill his glass, then stopped and held the bottle up studying the swirling contents for a moment. It was two thirds full. He grinned across at Art, tossed his glass at a nearby garbage can getting it in without touching the sides and took a long swig from his new drink.

The mood grew tense again and Heckler rescued it.

"That's my Fifty, spot on with a long gun and a smooth as silk with a hand grenade. Cheers, Elliot."

"Cheers Heck."

"I taught the boy how to do that by the way. Couldn't hit shit when we first adopted him."

"Bugs and grass, Uncle E. like daddy tells you stay focused, Kermit."

The group got quiet and Rios studied Elliot across the fire in the flickering light. His eyes had darkened a bit and his jaw had tensed. He was going to finally tell what happened to him on his last U.N. mission before arriving in Djibouti and becoming one of them. More importantly he was actually going to talk about work which Salem never did. He considered giving the young man a way out but thought better of it after Giddy met his eye and nodded in agreement. He sighed and waited for Salem to speak. After nearly ten years maybe it was time.

"They inserted us way deep behind enemy lines. Fuck the politics. I didn't understand them then and still don't. Just know we were buried in their territory. Objective was too recon, locate and either take out or call in coordinates for the artillery embedded in the rough mountains around the city."

He took a swig of Bourbon and continued in a low deep voice.

"We were gonna be active for about a month, six weeks tops. We were gonna sweep north and east around the east side of the city. Say from six o'clock to twelve cleaning up as we went then extract out. First two objectives went easy. We took both down with no problems. The third was a small deserted village spotted by aerial surveillance, one our few listed targets. They were bringing ammo for the nearby mortars in through it and we were to take it down. Me and my spotter, Petrovich D. I could never say his last name even though I speak Russian…"

"You speak Russian!"

"Yea Art he speaks Russian, pretty damned good at it too, detective." Giddy snapped.

"Anyway, so I called him P.D.. Me and P.D. were set up in a nice defensive sniper hide. Good visual for the whole little village, we felt like we had our guys covered. We scoped _everything_, gave Frenchy, our leader, the go ahead and they moved down into the small village. We'd reconed that bitch for two days and nothing had moved. Frenchy figured it had been abandoned. I reminded him looks can be fucked up but he headed in bold as brass anyway."

Salem paused sighed deeply drank from his bottle and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Ellie…"

"S'ok Tyse. It all went down pretty quick. There was six of us down there just waltzing down the dirt road. Again I told him to get his guys under cover stop being so stupid. He cut off his radio. All we could do was watch. The first volley took down Frenchy and two others. Names don't matter they ain't got heads anymore. We immediately tried to triangulate and find the snipers. Impossible. They were too well hidden and using silencers. From the angle that the shots needed to come from we did know that they were up in hills and probably seven hundred meters out easy. We were eight in the opposite direction. Fuck even if we could pin them down we couldn't really reach them. Anyway the other three panicked and instead of going for cover just fucking milled around; in shock I guess. Then bang, well no bang really, another three simultaneous head shots and after ten short minutes, on our fifth day, at only our third target with a month still to go, P.D. and I were alone, 150 klicks behind enemy lines with no supplies but what we carried and our entire squad ambushed."

"150 klicks? What's that in regular speak, Elliot?"

"Oh…right at about 100 miles, Frankie. Not a good place considering our situation and it wasn't likely they would just drop in and extract us; we were working dark and fucked."

"Wish you'd watch your language sonny, mixed company here."

"Another word Art and I'm gonna gag your ass."

"No, Giddy you gag him if you want but me I'm just gonna cut out his tongue."

"Oh, Uncle Heck can I help, I skinned a fish last weekend!"

"See…"

"Shut it gramps!"

"Thanks Giddy. So the good thing is we were about ninety-eight percent sure they didn't know _we_ were out there. We'd dropped off from the main squad two days back to do the surveillance. Bad thing was we had no fucking idea how they'd made the team. They could obviously see them and knew, which was the scarier part, that they were coming. Their snipers were picture perfect hidden. I was green as fuck but I was good and P.D. was better. We never saw anything move out there for two days. The bastards had to have been in place and waiting."

He took another long drink, wiped his mouth with the sleeve of Rios' blue sweatshirt and shook his head.

"Our guys were down there and we had to stay put. We had to let them just lay there. I wanted to call it in but P.D. said no. Whoever set it up might be listening and then _our _cover would be blown too. Even if the count was short at least we had some distance on them. We needed to wait them out. They were bound to come down and confirm the kills. Besides that there was no way they would pass up looting the bodies. So we waited. We waited for seven hours until just before dark. Then four guys slipped through the door of the nearest house. And again we never saw them; they were that good. Two acted as sentries and two dragged the guys into the house."

"I can't believe you just left them dying like that. Maybe you're not as good as you think you are. Maybe you were just a coupla' cowards too chicken shit to go down and save you buddies. Maybe…"

Art never saw Giddy's wicked back fist coming. The punch knocked him out of his chair and sent him sprawling. Before he could regroup the big man had the old detective by his throat.

"Warned you Art. I do not give a rat's ass whose father or grandfather you are. You insult my man again and the only thing you will be is a floater in that pool."

"Tye, are you going to allow them to treat my dad like this? Tyson!"

"Shut up Sam, get him up and tell him to keep his mouth shut and then no he might make it through the night."

"Mom! Do something!"

"He's your husband dear you put a collar on him and his barbaric buddies. I'm going to bed. And Art if you were smart you would join me."

Salem watched her kiss a cringing Nala on the cheek, as she headed for bed; ignoring the flitter of goose bumps that he felt at her nearness. They were all so dysfunctional and in such denial about it. At least when he was a kid all the adults around him knew how messed up they were and just went with it. He thought for a moment that maybe he should be the one taking Nala away for her safety.

"So… and for your edification Art, they were dead. Six perfectly executed head shots. We had excellent views of their brains draining into the snow through our high powered scopes. There was no saving them. On top of that these guys were not the snipers. They weren't carrying long guns, just old AK's. Those guys were still out there somewhere watching. For us to go down was suicide.

After about two hours the sentries headed back in. We waited until dark and after the moon hit some clouds and we started down. I'd say six klicks maybe eight it took us five hours just worming on our bellies. We made it into the house and it wasn't good."

Salem coughed and squirmed a little before drinking deeply from the Brandy and flipping his hat around backwards.

"They'd…they'd ah butchered them. Yea...took everything, and yea…butchered them. P.D. was spinning out on me. He'd been with them over a year. Hitchcock and him were pretty tight and now Hitch was in pieces. He wanted to bury the parts of them all. Just dig through the heap, sort them out and bury them. I told him no, could be booby trapped. I'd heard of them doing that, I _told_ him no. He finally just sat down in the corner and just started rocking. I was stuck, twenty-one years old, first real shit storm, second really but that's another story; didn't compare anyway and my spotter, the _veteran_ has just gone section fucking eight on me.

I told him to stay put I was gonna go upstairs and scope the terrain try and see how they'd gotten in and out, try and see if it was safe to move. I went up and was looking out of a back window, from like a bedroom maybe; it had an old brass bed. It was crazy because the glass was still good in the window. I was rubbing it clean to get a better look and bam next thing I know I'm down on the ground, cut to shit with the wind knocked outta me. I panicked. If the snipers were out there I was a target. I scurried into the wood line trying to cover my tracks, deaf and gasping, burrowed down as far as I could into the brush and snow and waited.

Finally once my breath was back and I checked my injuries, right shoulder dislocated. Yea, Tyse that was the first time. Cuts to my face from the glass. Badly bruised ribs slight concussion maybe, I crept back into the street. The house was leveled. Nothing really left. The guys…the guys were gone. P.D. he didn't listen. No one _ever_ fucking listens to me."

Salem paused again this time for longer. Rios got up and retrieved beers for everyone including Salem. When he handed it to him he squeezed his shoulder tightly and patted his head. The younger man looked up at him and smiled a weak ineffectual smile. As Tyson re-took his seat he thought about Salem's last comment. 'No one ever fucking listens to me.' Maybe that was why the man chose never to talk about work. Too many times burned by team mates just ignoring him. Aside from this event he could list off several others.

"What about the grass, Uncle E.?"

"The grass well…I finally worked my way back to our original hide and fixed myself up. Really struggled getting my shoulder back in. I radio in. As soon as Eamon, Major Darvish hears my voice he knows I'm in trouble. We were close. He liked me and despite ranks we played chess and talked a lot. I helped him with his Russian too. I tell him there's a situation. I don't know who to trust though. I don't know who else can hear my coms. He reads me somehow and I hear him say clear the room. Now I have him alone. I fill him in and he's stunned. He also agrees we'd been compromised. He asks if I can proceed with my mission. I tell him sure, not like you can come and get me so if I'm gonna walk out I might as well do my work while I'm at it. He calls for Staff Sergeant Fillmore my squad leader. We're on a three way com and they're arguing. Fillmore says I'm too green that green is bad. Darvish reminds him that I'm green but damned good and finally Fillmore agrees, we come up with a com plan so I don't lose battery and give me the code name Green Giant and that's that.

I ran out of food pretty quickly. We all carried some but the bulk of it was also split up between us, everyone toting a part of the whole so to speak. Me, I was… well the smallest and I usually packed a little lighter. It just made sense so I went with it. On top of that, working alone I had to slow down. I had no scout, no rear guard just me. I needed to not get injured that would a death sentence. I called in everything I located and sniped or blew what I could. I don't know what the fuckers ate 'cause I never found shit for rations. All said I was being very effective except for starving to death.

There was about a foot of snow on the ground and always more falling. I'd pack small amounts of it in separate containers in my ruck so it would melt so I had a minimal water supply. Following creeks is running the low ground; not a good plan. I watched what the occasional deer ate and ate that. I didn't risk taking one. I snared rabbits a coupla times but that meant fire and that spelled trouble. I knew they had snipers good ones at that and then there was always the problem of having been sold out. Every time I called in a coordinate they had at least a half assed bead on my position. I needed to be invisible. I ate bark and lichens, stuff buried in the snow. I could get little snails sometimes and ants but single digit temps and humping up and down rugged slopes takes a shit load of calories."

"Did it taste good?"

"No, kiddo but taste didn't count, I just needed to stay alive. Four weeks in I started to feel like I wasn't alone. Eamon said maybe I was just getting stir crazy and suggested I risk getting some better food. I agreed and made my way back toward an old hunt cabin I'd come across earlier that week. I hadn't gone down to it the first time but after watching it for a day I risked it. If nothing else I hoped they had a root cellar. I'd seen shacks like it before that did.

I move down the slope carefully and started to feel secure, then I made my way round toward the back which had good cover from the slope, less sniper advantage. I was maybe eighteen yards out and snap. My leg was on fire and for the first time I _truly_ started to panic. It was a fucking animal trap. Chewed into my right leg from just at the top of my boot and up onto my calf and shin. The pain was unreal. I started crawling in a circle looking for the sniper but nothing…it was just an old forgotten trap. Finally I settled down and tried to open it. It's hard, you can't get leverage and I was weak from not eating too. I finally manage to get it started and a stick cracked out in the tree line. I startled and let the fucker loose. Snap it got me again. I woke up after dark damn near hypothermic and shaking so hard I thought I'd break my teeth. I drank some water, ate my last ants and some bark and went at the thing again. I got it free.

I couldn't move out so I moved into the shack. Place was empty but out of the wind. I risked a small fire, boiled snow in a long flat pan I'd found and tried to clean up my leg. Some of the gashes had cracked into my shin bone and I was afraid for infection. I dosed myself with antibiotics and stitched it that's the best I could do. Problem was walking was near impossible. I reported in and Eamon pulled the plug. He called me back with extraction coordinates and a time line and I agreed. I'd had enough. Some forty-five mortar emplacements later some miscellaneous stuff and the op was over. all I had to do was hobble one-thirty-five klicks to get to my ride.

Two days later I took the trap with me, I don't' know why and moved out. I'd made maybe thirty klicks and stopped to rest. I ate some ants and a bit of a root I'd found in the shack and stood up to move out. My leg buckled in pain and I dropped back down. The bullet splintered the tree branch where my head should have been. I wasn't alone I was being hunted. No shot rang out so he was a sniper and pretty far out with a silencer. I scrambled to some rocks for cover and tried to stay calm. Finally I managed to slip away.

For the next two weeks we dogged one another. He'd shoot, I'd shoot but the terrain and deteriorating weather pretty much made hitting anything impossible. Thing that scared me was I couldn't scrub for food and I was pretty sure he was eating. I also had a time line to meet. Tramping around playing hide and seek was killing it. Toward the end of the second week he actually just stumbled across me. We fought and I caught some luck again. He was a big ass Russian bastard. Big like Giddy but broader, and tough and trained in hand to hand but he slipped and fell in the snow and I pounced. I slammed the butt of my rifle into his face over and over and over then blinded by my own facial injury I just ran. Well limped, hobbled whatever. Got the fuck away from him. To this day I don't know why I didn't shoot him too. Maybe I figured I'd killed him. Maybe I was just so fucking scared of him. Finally I fell down a slope maybe forty feet just rolling and tumbling. I woke up hours later a bloody mess. I stitched up my face, got a bearing and kept moving toward extraction.

Next day just after daybreak, there was light snow flurries falling and the air smelled fresh, he hit me. A through and through left inside, thigh, high in the in the meat."

"I didn't know that Salem, don't remember that wound."

"Guess it never came up, Tyse. I knew I had to just end it. I couldn't run anymore. I laid still playing dead. He was a ways out, it was a beautiful shot but once he moved to confirm his kill he wouldn't be able to see me. I crawled away. I set that fucking trap just outside a little hole in the base of a tree and crawled inside. I hid the trap under snow and brush and myself too then waited and plugged up my newest injury. I was exhausted, starving, hurt and terrified.

Finally I heard a twig snap and snow crunching. I knew he'd see my tracks to the tree. I knew he'd wonder why I'd just caved and hunkered down in it to die. He spent two hours searching the area for me probably figuring the tree was a set up. But his problem was the only tracks, the _only_ blood led to that tree. Finally he came over. I could see him through a tiny slit in my cover. He squatted down, moved in duck walking then he leaned down to peer in and snap. I got his right arm in the trap. I launched out of my hole and just stood there looking at him. He was fucked. His face was a bloody mess from the fight and arm was shredded. I fired three shots from my Deagle point blank into his forehead and passed out.

When I came around I was actually surprised he was still dead. I started to laugh like an imbecile and spin stumbling in a circle. I fell over backwards and flailed my arms and legs making a snow angel. It was madness. Finally I took his rifle. It was beautiful; a Barrett light fifty. I took his knife, eight inch Randall also exquisite. I left him side arm. Don't know why. I loaded a round in the chamber and wrapped his cold fingers around it and set it in his lap. I think a part of me still didn't think he was dead and I wanted him to have a fair chance when he woke up. Who the fuck knows. I was just done in. Then I rolled him into the tree hole and buried him with stones and brush and marked the coordinates. He deserved at least that. To my surprise he had no food. I took his ammo and water and meds, finally I took a bearing and headed out.

Three days later I hit extraction. The chopper showed and I stumbled toward it. I was freaked out to see Captain Judd Freemont exiting. I asked for Eamon but Monte just smiled looked to see if we were alone and went for his sidearm. It was all in slow motion. I dropped, drew mine and fired. Hit him twice in the right shoulder, then ran for the wood line. Took 'em three hours, Eamon and the smell of food to talk me in.

Monte you see was the traitor and he knew I knew. I'd always hated him we had history, bad history form my first days in Sarajevo. Then during my fourth week I was watching a mortar camp and he showed up. Just popped into my scope. He traded a bunch of Nato stamped weapons crates for drugs. I was furious. I tagged him through his left shoulder. I didn't want to kill him just mark him. He had to know it was me; I was the only one out in that forest who could make that shot. When he came out of the chopper I regretted not telling Eamon sooner but I had no idea who to trust. Still I couldn't believe he'd try and waste me like that. It had been Monte who set the Russian sniper on me. Monte's fault I had to kill him, what a waste. I hate him. Now I had to tell Eamon though. Now that Fremont had made his move. He believed me thank fuckin' god. The chopper crew restrained him and I loaded up. I Killed that man because of fucking Monte. He was a good man, had a picture of his son in his gear. Fuckin' Monte! I…I…Seven guys, my guys, my guys butchered, after what I'd already done to save them in the beginning. I'd sold my fuckin' soul to save them on our third op. And my…my sniper, I…"

Salem crumbled and began to sob. Mimi stood and tried to take Nala away. This wasn't something she needed to see. The little girl screamed and plead to stay and fought like a wounded animal.

"No! No! Let me go! My Uncle Elliot, mine, let me go! He needs me! Grama stop it, no! Daddy!"

Finally Zoe stepped in and helped her wrestle Nala free. She was clutching Elliot in a death grip round his neck and sobbing uncontrollably with him.

Then Tyson was at his side, and Giddy and Heckler and the three simply wrapped themselves around the sobbing man and held him for nearly a half an hour. Brett, Frankie and the other guests including Art could only watch in silence. None of them could even begin to imagine such hardship and betrayal. Only Art remained untouched. Even though he'd never in all of his years in law enforcement experienced such hurt and camaraderie he couldn't bring himself to feel any empathy for Elliot.

Finally he calmed down and they released him. All had been crying and none were ashamed of it. They'd all been through a lot with Salem and to hear his story broke them as much as it had broken Elliot to tell it. Rios retrieved Salem's Bourbon and took a long drink, then, Giddy then Heckler. Salem sighed deeply and shook his head.

"They just…just de-briefed me, handed me my mail, told me to pack my gear and shipped me straight to you guys. Didn't even see a medic really till I hit Germany. Even then it was in and out. Eamon figured with the shit storm coming over Freemont it'd be better to get me clear a there. Eamon knew top and that top needed a man, told me you were great Tyse, that you'd have my back no matter what imagine my disappointment. But anyway here we all still are."

"Yup here we are. And I guess it just goes to show Nala was fucking right. Green _is_ good, especially god damned fuckin' damn good in vegetables and little skinny ass bitches named Salem. And Fifty here, he's living fucking proof. To our Fifty!"

He raised the Bourbon slammed back a mouthful and passed it round.

Three rounds later Salem settled back into his chair seeming to doze. The conversation fell to nearly whispers and steered well clear of anything to serious. After about an hour the peaceful mood was again ripped apart. Salem lunged up from his chair screaming and stumbling around. Rios moved to him immediately.

"Don't take her! Leave my, Ellie be, you can't have her! Leave my daughter. No, no, no, don't take her from me! I'm sorry! I'm…"

"Salem, Ellie it's Tyse Elliot stop, Salem!"

He held him in a crushing bear hug from behind and tried to get through to him. Finally Salem went limp and Tyson sat him back down on the edge of a chair. He knelt down and took his sweaty face between his hands.

"Bad dream, Ellie, it's over. Come on now, gonna get you off to bed. You've had enough for today."

They went into the house and the group was left to decipher the odd nightmare.

"Elliot has a kid?"

"No Brett that's just it he don't. What the hell Giddy, what the fuck was that all about. He's never had that nightmare before."

"Hell if know but it's late and maybe we should all head in. The beach tomorrow and a volleyball game to win. Let's go."

Zoe though held back.

"Zoe?"

"I'll be right there, Heck just going to douse the fire and snuff the lanterns, get the sleeping bags set ok."

"Ok, but Tyse usually…"

"He has his hands full with Elliot, Heck. I have it this time."

She went around snuffing the lanterns and then the fire pit while trying to erase Salem's screams from her mind. The dream secured for her a belief that she'd long held about the young man. He had a secret, a very big secret and it would tear him up if he didn't talk about it. She'd lost a child very young and for years she'd always felt an odd affinity to Salem that she couldn't quite explain. The way played with the kids, the glimpses of sadness she often caught him in, it all reminded her of herself during the first years after her daughter had died. She snuffed the final lantern and sighed.

"Well Elliot Salem, they say 'it takes one to know one' and Giddy has also sworn for years there's a piece of your puzzle missing and now I think, as crazy at it's gonna sound I might have figured it out."


End file.
